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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25460428">your time starts... now</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/blchoudai/pseuds/blchoudai'>blchoudai</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>mise en place [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Attempt at Humor, Chef Katsuki Yuuri, Chef Victor Nikiforov, Chopped (TV Show), Food Network AU, Humor, Katsuki Yuuri Is a Victor Nikiforov Fan, M/M, Oblivious Heartbreaker Katsuki Yuuri, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Phichit Chulanont Is a Good Friend, Phichit Chulanont is a Little Shit, Pining, Romance, Thirsty Katsuki Yuuri, Unreliable Narrator Katsuki Yuuri</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:15:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25460428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/blchoudai/pseuds/blchoudai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuuri Katsuki competes in an episode of Chopped and loses. </p><p>Alternatively: Victor Nikiforov is not only a gorgeous world-renowned culinary legend, but he’s also Yuuri’s idol, the main reason why Yuuri started cooking professionally in the first place. Yuuri’s been following Victor Nikiforov’s career since he was in middle school and now, he’s here, in the flesh, competing against him. </p><p>Shit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri &amp; Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont &amp; Katsuki Yuuri</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>mise en place [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>198</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. aperitif</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I am not a culinary professional, I did not do enough research on this and everything below in regards to the Food Network is most likely very inaccurate but for the sake of putting this AU idea to rest, please indulge me!! </p><p>Note: Yuuri is an unreliable narrator.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>“Good evening folks, welcome to <em> Chopped!</em> Let’s introduce the first chef: Yuuri Katsuki!” </p><p>He’s walking onto the set, nods to the camera and tries not to trip. He knows that this is the part where they play his mini blurb about himself to the TV viewers. He remembers being filmed at the restaurant he owns in Los Angeles. He remembers recording the voiceover where he talks about himself. He does not, however, remember what he said. </p><p>He stops at the end of the hallway to give the camera his ‘fighting’ look. He does what he thinks is a smile, but it probably makes him look constipated or nervous. Maybe both. </p><p>Yeah, both. </p><p>He makes his way to his station and Ted Allen is announcing the next competitor, “Leo De la Glacia!” </p><p>The name is familiar. Yuuri watches him as he enters the kitchen and Leo is waving to the cameras and the judges. They share a friendly greeting and a handshake as Leo takes his spot next to Yuuri’s station. </p><p>Ted is announcing the third competitor and Yuuri tries to keep his breathing even. “Welcome Sara Crispino!”</p><p>Yes, he’s nervous. No, he hasn’t been on <em> Chopped </em> before. Yes, he’s watched the show. No, he doesn’t know why he let Phichit talk him into competing. </p><p>Yes, he could use the prize money. His parent’s <em> onsen </em> business back home in Japan could use some renovating. </p><p>“And finally, Victor Nikiforov!” </p><p>Yuuri freezes. </p><p>Victor Nikiforov is not only a gorgeous world-renowned culinary legend, but he’s also Yuuri’s idol, the main reason why Yuuri started cooking professionally in the first place. Yuuri’s been following Victor Nikiforov’s career since he was in middle school and now, he’s <em> here</em>, in the flesh, competing against <em> him</em>. </p><p>
  <em> Shit.  </em>
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</p><p>“So, it’s the appetizer round, let’s check in with the chefs to see how they’re doing.” Ted Allen walks over to Yuuri’s station. “Yuuri, what do we have here?” </p><p>Half of the time is nearly gone and Yuuri’s muttering to himself, frantically chopping his pig ears. “This is… I’m making a…” He trails off and turns around to throw his pig ears into the frying pan. He goes to toss his salad. The cameras that’s assigned to him follow his every move. Ted looks unimpressed. </p><p>“Yuuri seems busy! We’ll check in with him again later.”</p><p><br/>
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</p><p> </p><p>“And time’s up! Please step away from your stations.” </p><p>Yuuri looks down at his appetizer. The salad looks soggy and the pig ears look like he just dumped it on the plate. He looks over at the other stations and they look <em> good </em>. His stomach does a little grumble. Yuuri makes eye contact with Victor Nikiforov. The beautiful man glances down at Yuuri’s plate then back at him and there’s now a small curve on his beautiful lips as they walk forward to line up in front of the judges. </p><p>Yuuri chokes on his own spit and turns to look back at the judges. “Yuuri, what have you made for us today?”</p><p>He explains his dish as best he can, trying not to stutter as the judges stare him down and poke at the food. They ask him a few questions about his experience. Everything else is a blur and Ted Allen dismisses them from the kitchen to go wait in the next room. He takes a seat and buries his face in his hands, wiping the sweat away with his palms.                     </p><p>“That was a tough basket!” He hears Victor exclaim. His mouth forms a heart-shape as he smiles. It looks as perfect as it does in his photographs. He’s sitting next to Yuuri but speaks to the other chefs in the room. Leo and Sara both agree with Victor and Yuuri can’t bring himself to comment.</p><p>“The judges really loved your dish, Yuuri!” Leo says. </p><p>“It was a beautiful plate,” Sara nods. </p><p>Yuuri doesn’t even know what his dish tastes like. He tells them so. Sara and Leo exchange gasps of “What? No way!”</p><p>Victor hums and when Yuuri looks over at him, there’s a gleam in Victor’s eyes. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>“On to the Entree round! Time starts… Now!” </p><p>Yuuri stares at his basket and blanks. What the hell was he supposed to do with pork cutlets, broccolini, finger limes, and candy apples? He blurts out a curse word in his native Japanese tongue.</p><p>He hears one of the judges comment, “Looks like Yuuri is having a hard time deciding what to do with his basket.” The camera focuses on him and Yuuri frantically runs away. </p><p>He’s in the pantry and grabs whatever he could and flies back to his station in a fit of hysteria. Ted decides not to bother him until he’s whisking together a vodka-infused gravy. </p><p>“What did you decide on making for your entree?” </p><p>“It’s, um… pork.” </p><p>“...Right.”</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>“The texture of the gravy, the crunchiness of the breading you did on the pork cutlet, it’s wonderful,” Maneet gushes. </p><p>“I agree, it’s also beautifully plated. I love what you did with the broccolini and apples. Such a brilliant and smart idea,” says Scott. </p><p>Yuuri lets go of the breath he was holding. His eyes dart to Victor and there’s an amused look on his face.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>They’re in the waiting room now and Victor is sitting next to him again. Yuuri finishes off a water bottle but it’s not enough to quench his thirst. “When you were cooking, it smelled so wonderful!” says Sara. </p><p>“Thanks,” Yuuri replies with a smile pointed at Sara. “It’s not as good as my mother’s, though.”</p><p>Victor does that beautiful hum again. </p><p>Yuuri’s heart flutters. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>It’s the dessert round. Oh god, he’s made it to the dessert round. He’s standing in front of Victor Nikiforov and the gorgeous man is just beaming down at him. </p><p>He thinks about the posters of Victor he has hung up in his childhood bedroom.</p><p>There really isn’t any comparison to the real thing.</p><p>Ted tells them to say a few fighting words to each other. </p><p>“I’m looking forward to what kind of dessert you make.” Victor’s voice makes Yuuri want to melt into butter and be spread all over the perfect focaccia Victor made back in their appetizer round.</p><p>All Yuuri could do is blurt out, “<em>You’re on.</em>”</p><p>As soon as Ted starts the timer, Yuuri reaches for his chocolate and ghost chili peppers. He decides to make an ice cream. </p><p>Later during the round, he somehow slices his finger. His pained yelp makes Victor look over and he hears him say, “Oh Yuuri!” Victor’s voice is beautiful, even when it sounds condescending. “Are you okay?” </p><p>Yuuri runs over to the sink with a medic to get bandaged and glances nervously at the time. </p><p>Ted Allen is shouting. “Yuuri’s cut himself pretty badly and there’s only ten minutes remaining! His ice cream is still in the machine!”</p><p>“If he doesn’t take it out soon, it’ll be over-churned,” comments Lilia Baranovskaya. The medic is helping him into a glove and as soon as it’s on, Yuuri runs to the machine and prays. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>“Is your finger okay?” Victor asks him. They’re sitting in the waiting room, on opposite ends of the table this time. Yuuri tries not to look straight into the cameras. He meets Victor’s endless blue eyes and looks away almost instantly. Victor keeps his stare. </p><p>Yuuri puts his bandaged hand up, “Oh, it’s fine,” he says. “Thank you for asking.” He gives Victor a small smile and puts his hand on the table. Victor’s fingers tap against the surface and finally Yuuri looks away. </p><p>“That was an interesting round.” Victor says to him. He’s still looking at him. “You were amazing.” Yuuri sputters and looks up at Victor again. </p><p>“I almost cut my own finger off,” he says bluntly. “And you think <em> I’m </em> amazing?”</p><p>Yuuri watches as a brief look of surprise passes over Victor’s face. </p><p><em> Oh. He’s making fun of me, </em> Yuuri realizes and feels himself turn red. “Actually, I’m surprised I made it this far,” he comments. </p><p>Victor doesn’t hum this time, in fact, he seems upset. Disappointed, even. <em> Maybe the competition wasn’t up to his expectations</em>, Yuuri thinks. He sinks a little in his seat. </p><p>Yuuri feels his chest constrict. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>“Chef Yuuri, I’m sorry. You’ve been Chopped. Judges?” </p><p>He can’t hear what the judges say, but he waits for them to finish. He thanks them with his best smile, gathers up enough of himself to shake hands with the judges and Victor, and walks out. </p><p>He keeps his face neutral with an expression that says ‘Oh well!’ to the cameras. As soon as it pans away, he stalks to the nearest bathroom and shuts himself in a stall to cry a little.</p><p>Just a little.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p> </p><p>“If it weren’t for your finger, you would’ve won,” Phichit laments over the phone. He had just finished watching Yuuri’s episode of <em> Chopped</em>. “Against Nikiforov himself!”</p><p>Yuuri groans. “They said my biscotti was too hard.”</p><p>“But your ice cream was <em> perfect!</em> Everyone knows that damn ice cream machine is the devil incarnate but you finessed the piece of shit, Yuuri! <em> Finessed!</em>”</p><p>“That machine was fine,” Yuuri answers. He’s typing up the drafts for a cookbook. It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning and his cup of coffee has gone cold. He takes a sip anyway. “You just have to know how to use it.” </p><p>Phichit hums in thought. “Well. Did you get his number at least?”</p><p>Yuuri chokes on his coffee. </p><p>“I’ll take that as a no.” He could hear Phichit’s disappointed look over the phone. He remembers sitting in the waiting room, alone with Victor, nervous and fidgety. </p><p>“I wasn’t up to his standards, apparently.” Yuuri says bitterly. </p><p>Phichit sucks his teeth, “Tch, as if! The camera angles kept zooming in on his face after every time you spoke,” Yuuri rolls his eyes as Phichit keeps going, “He looked like he was hiding a <em> culinary boner </em> under his apron.” </p><p>Yuuri chokes again. “Yeah right. I’m done talking about this,” Yuuri taps at his keyboard with a little too much force. </p><p>Yuuri huffs. “There’s no way Victor Nikiforov was interested in even half of the things I said on the show.”</p><p>“Maybe you should watch the episode then,” Phichit says back with a teasing tone. </p><p>Victor’s voice rings in his ears. <em> “You were amazing.” </em></p><p>“There’s no way,” Yuuri whispers under his breath. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Sometime later, he reads on the internet that Victor Nikiforov used the prize money to open his fourth restaurant in the bustling city of Los Angeles, which is also coincidentally where Yuuri currently lives. </p><p>Yuuri skims through most of the article but stops at the interview portion to read it thoroughly. </p><p><em> “Think of the menu as something like an homage,” Victor remarks</em>. <em> “My own special tribute to flavors that stay close to me.” </em></p><p>Yuuri makes a reservation to attend the opening night, partly out of research but mostly out of curiosity. The restaurant itself reflects its owner--grandiose, modern and nothing less than what he expected. There’s one item on the menu that is strikingly similar to something Yuuri’s made before. He orders it instantly upon reading the brief description--it’s the chocolate ghost chili pepper ice cream he attempted on the show, but <em> insanely </em> better. </p><p>He feels his entire face turning red with embarrassment and anger, but he finishes all of his food anyway, quietly pays his bill, and leaves. </p><p>He goes home that night and decides to finish an entire bottle of wine.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>It’s a year or so later after Yuuri opens his second restaurant and he’s been invited to cook again on <em> Chopped: All-Stars</em>. This time, they’re competing to donate to charity. He’s walking onto the set and Ted Allen is welcoming him back. </p><p>“And today we have a guest judge, another familiar face: top chef and esteemed restaurateur, please welcome back: Victor Nikiforov!” </p><p>Yuuri’s heart sinks. </p><p><em> Fuck</em>. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>“Yuuri, I’ve heard from the judges that there’s a recurring theme in your dishes!” </p><p>Yuuri pauses for a brief second and then continues tending to his berry compote. <em> He must’ve said something</em>, Yuuri thinks. He hasn’t forgotten about the ice cream from Victor’s restaurant. </p><p>He lets out a breathy laugh, “Oh, you noticed?” </p><p>“Yes, apparently you’ve been incorporating a bit of Victor Nikiforov’s favorite flavors in each dish. You’ve definitely done some research! Could you elaborate?” </p><p><em> Go away Ted Allen</em>, Yuuri wants to say, but he loves the TV host and can’t bear to say anything mean to him. No one says anything mean to Ted Allen. </p><p>
  <em> No one. </em>
</p><p>He’s bending down over his dish making sure his plating is immaculate. His hands tremble slightly as he’s piping down his whipped cream.</p><p>“I’m a big fan,” he mumbles. </p><p>He hears Victor Nikiforov remark, “Wow!” and Yuuri’s face burns a deep, dark red. </p><p>“No one likes a kiss-ass,” JJ Leroy shouts from his end. He shouts again when his eyebrows nearly singe off his face as he turns on the torch for his creme brulee. </p><p><em> Really? A creme brulee? So boring</em>. “Yeah, well, no one likes a bitch-ass,” Yuuri mutters without missing a beat, thinking it was under his breath, but he ends up saying it a little too loudly. Enough for the cameras to hear. The judges laugh and whoas jokingly at his outburst. He panics. JJ Leroy gasps at his retort and responds with a battle cry, “I’ll show you JJ Style!” </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>He ends up winning against JJ Style. Yuuri stands before the judges and sweats and tries not to look Victor in the eye as the judges congratulate him on his victory. </p><p>“Chef Yuuri Katsuki, you are the <em> Chopped </em>champion!” Ted announces in his wonderful voice. </p><p>“Thank you for everything today,” Yuuri says politely with a bright smile. He bows to the judges and his eyes accidentally flicker to look at Victor and suddenly he’s meeting his gaze--Victor’s eyes are strikingly blue. Yuuri doesn’t know what his smile means. </p><p>“You did great, Yuuri,” Victor says. They shake hands.</p><p>Yuuri’s heart soars. </p><p>He hopes he doesn’t develop a praise kink. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>“A big fan, hm?” </p><p>He’s changing out of his uniform in a dressing room when Victor Nikiforov finds him. Yuuri whips around quicker than the KitchenAid mixer he used earlier. </p><p>“V-Victor Nikiforov?!” </p><p>Victor’s finger is on his lips like he’s deep in thought. He’s looking straight at Yuuri and Yuuri is gaping back at him, holding onto his chef’s uniform with a death grip. Yuuri’s in a white T-shirt and he’s sure there are sweat stains around his armpits. He feels like a mess next to Victor’s colorful, crisp blazer and button-up dress shirt. </p><p>“I appreciated all the flavors you gave me today, Yuuri,” Victor says. His Russian accent elongates the ‘u’ vowel in his name and Yuuri suppresses a shiver. Victor steps closer and Yuuri can’t help but be a little star struck. “I wonder what other flavors you can make.” </p><p>There’s a challenging glint in his perfect blue eyes. </p><p>“Well… what are you in the mood for?” Yuuri answers. He can’t tell if he’s speaking normally or in whispers, because his heartbeat is pounding in his ears. If Yuuri had been closer, he would’ve noticed Victor’s pupils dilate. </p><p>“Wow!” Victor exclaims with a heart-shaped smile and then says quietly, “You never fail to surprise me, Yuuri.” </p><p>Yuuri doesn’t know what to say so he just sputters out nonsense instead. Victor’s laugh is melodic and airy and Yuuri wants to bathe in it. Victor motions to the door. </p><p>“Let’s get out of here.” </p><p><br/>
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</p><p> </p><p>They end up at a McDonald’s drive-thru. </p><p>Yuuri can’t believe his eyes. He’s convinced he’s dreaming right now. </p><p>Because there’s no way this is happening.</p><p>He’s sitting in Victor’s expensive looking car (he has no idea what model or make it is and is not sure if he wants to know because <em> goddamn</em>, everything is so shiny) and Victor’s talking to the intercom, ordering a Quarter Pounder with cheese, no onions, no pickles, and no mustard; add Mac sauce. He looks at Yuuri. </p><p>“What would you like?”</p><p>Yuuri can’t believe his ears. </p><p>Victor Nikiforov is a world-renowned culinary legend with at least five 3-star Michelin restaurants all over the globe, who has made countless high-class gourmet cheeseburgers worthy of winning awards and yet, here they are. </p><p>At a McDonald’s drive-thru. </p><p>
  <em> You can’t be fucking serious. </em>
</p><p>“Um…” Yuuri starts, “I can’t really eat McDonald’s.” </p><p>“Oh?” Victor puts a finger to his lip, “Why is that?” </p><p>“My weight fluctuates really badly… I’ll balloon up if I don’t keep to my diet.” </p><p>Victor looks at him up and down. Then he stares. Yuuri freezes and a moment passes.</p><p>“Anything else for you, sir?” The voice crackles through the intercom. </p><p>Victor is still staring.</p><p>Yuuri crumbles under the pressure. </p><p>“...A McChicken then, please.” </p><p>A smile and then he turns his head back to the open window and Victor tells the intercom, “A McChicken, 20-piece chicken nuggets and two large fries!”</p><p>“A McChicken, 20-piece chicken nuggets and two large fries, okay… Would you like a drink with that, sir?” </p><p>Victor looks back at Yuuri, who opens his mouth but before he could respond, Victor goes and replies to the intercom. “One large diet Coke.” </p><p>Victor finishes ordering and hums along to the radio as they drive up to the next window. Victor pays for their food, passes the bags and soda to Yuuri (their fingers brush against each other and Yuuri dies a little bit more) and drives off. </p><p>Victor continues humming to the radio. </p><p>Yuuri peeks into the bag. </p><p>They forgot to give them one of the large fries. </p><p>Yuuri keeps his mouth shut. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>“And that gastrique you made, Yuuri! I wouldn’t have thought of putting gummy bears and squid ink together like that!”</p><p>They’re sitting at Yuuri’s living area in his hotel suite, munching on fast food and sharing a diet Coke. (<em>Sharing--sharing!!! Sharing a diet coke!! Indirect!!! Kissing!!!!!!! </em> Yuuri is mentally screaming and for a split second the thought of wanting to keep the straw when they’re done passes through his mind, but he isn’t <em> that </em> crazy.)</p><p>Victor is adding his contact info into his phone and Yuuri hears his phone <em> do-doop </em> softly, indicating Victor’s just sent him a text so he’d have his number in return. At this point, Yuuri accepts that what is happening is just a dream and that he is very much sleeping. </p><p>Except he’s not. </p><p>“Thanks,” he says around his mouthful of sandwich. “I was inspired by one of your recipes,” Yuuri mumbles, his face hot. He sneaks in glances at Victor to watch him eat and it makes Yuuri want to turn into the cheeseburger in Victor’s beautiful and perfect hands. </p><p>“Tell me about yourself, Yuuri,” Victor starts. “Since you know so much about me already,” Yuuri chokes and Victor keeps going.</p><p>“You’ve been taking the culinary world by storm these past few months. I’m impressed.” He’s doing that smile thing again at him. </p><p>Yuuri coughs and puts his sandwich down and takes a napkin to wipe his mouth. Victor watches his every move. “It’s nothing, really—"</p><p>Victor holds up one hand to stop him from talking. Yuuri instantly snaps shut. </p><p>“You were a guest judge multiple times on Iron Chef America and this season’s Master Chef; you toured around the world to do book signings for your newly released cookbook—which sold nearly over a million copies; all after opening up a new restaurant the year prior,” Victor says evenly without missing a beat. </p><p>“And then you’ve just opened another restaurant and now you’re here <em> again</em>, filming <em> Chopped </em> culinary history. Don’t tell me that’s ‘<em>nothing</em>.’” </p><p>Yuuri wants to protest but Victor keeps going. He leans in, face so close to Yuuri’s that he could smell Victor’s cologne.</p><p>“I don’t like being lied to, Yuuri.” He sounds almost serious, if it weren’t for the smile on his face. </p><p>Unless...</p><p><em> Crap, I pissed him off</em>. “Sorry! I’m sorry.” Yuuri fidgets. “I just don’t think that highly of myself,” he says quietly. He picks his sandwich back up and feebly takes a small bite. His face is hot and he wants to change the subject. </p><p>“You’re quite popular, you know.” Victor moves back to his original posture. </p><p>Something dawns on him mid-chew. </p><p>“Wait,” Yuuri starts, “How do you know all this?”</p><p>Victor hums then chirps with so much happiness, “I’m a big fan!”</p><p>Yuuri drops the rest of his sandwich onto his lap. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>He’s back in LA when Yuuri wakes from a nap one afternoon and sees his first ever <em> (official) </em> text message from Victor and he wonders if he’s still sleeping. There’s another buzz and a <em> doo-doop! </em> that makes him almost drop his phone on his face. </p><p>It’s been a few weeks since they exchanged numbers, but it’s not like Yuuri was expecting a text or a call right away, or something or whatever. Like, sure, Yuuri could’ve sent that first text ages ago. Like, it’s not as if Yuuri didn’t open a new text window nearly every day with the intention of sending Victor a message, except every time he tried to type something, he ended up deleting it all. </p><p>Like, what is he, some kind of awkward, horny, pining teenager? <em> Ha!  </em></p><p>Yuuri’s a mature adult! Awkward? <em> Yeah right! </em> Pining? <em> As if! </em> Horny? <em> Ha!  </em></p><p>
  <em> Ha... </em>
</p><p>Anyway.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Yuuri taps open his messaging app and taps again on Victor’s text. </p><p>It’s a picture of miscellaneous foods atop a chopping board on a dark marble counter. Yuuri squints and recognizes a few of the ingredients: rhubarb, eggs, lemons... </p><p><em> Any dessert ideas? </em>The text reads. </p><p>Yuuri studies the photo, ideas buzzing in his head and finally without hesitation he types in and hits send, <em> Mille-feuille? </em></p><p>Yuuri slaps a hand on his forehead and grimaces, <em> Wow, Yuuri... A mille-feuille? Seriously? So unoriginal</em>. </p><p>He waits for a few moments, watching the three dots appear and disappear until finally nothing. He sighs heavily and gets up from bed to try and focus his attention on some work instead. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>An hour or so passes until Yuuri gets a new notification from Victor. </p><p><em> How did I do? </em> the text reads, attached with a selfie of Victor, holding up a plate of the finished product. It’s absolutely stunning and he’s sure he could hear the beautiful flakiness of the puff pastry through the photo; Victor’s brightly smiling at the camera with a wink and now Yuuri is <em> craving</em>. </p><p><em> That looks fucking delicious</em>, Yuuri thinks. He tells him so (except without the swearing) and Victor replies back with numerous happy face emoji. </p><p>He looks at the photo again, zooming in on the dish. There’s a fleeting stab of jealousy, awe and competitiveness in his gut, and Yuuri takes it all in and jots down notes for his cookbook. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>One morning, Yuuri tunes into the broadcast of <em> Good Morning America</em>, where Victor is being interviewed live. They ask him the normal questions, like “What’s it like managing all the restaurants you have now? Do you have any free time for yourself? What do you do outside of food? Do you have a favorite item on your menu?” </p><p>Victor answers all of their questions expertly with practiced responses. His starlight hair glitters under the studio lights and Yuuri wants to run his fingers through it. </p><p>“As for my personal favorite, I have to say it’s our <em> mille-feuille</em>, with lemon and rhubarb!” He smiles his wonderful heart-smile straight into the camera as if he knows Yuuri is watching him. “A good friend helped me with it, actually. His talent really doesn’t compare to anything else out there.” </p><p>Yuuri coughs into his breakfast bowl and thumps his fist against his chest. He’s not sure what hurts, him choking on his oats or his heart pounding rapidly against his ribcage. </p><p><em> He doesn’t mean that</em>, Yuuri thinks. </p><p><br/>
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</p><p>It’s later into the year and Yuuri just wants to take a nap. He’s <em> tired</em>; they’re in New York (again), filming yet another guest judge appearance on some food competition show with Victor (again) as a fellow guest judge and Phichit somehow invites all the stage crew and show’s cast out for drinks. Yuuri has never been able to say no, but when he sees Phichit exchanging contact information with Victor Nikiforov, he mentally practices. </p><p>“Ready Yuuri?” Phichit is scrolling through his phone as he’s walking back to where Yuuri’s waiting outside the studio. “I already told the others the location.”</p><p><em> No thanks, Phichit. I should go home, </em>is what he imagines himself saying. </p><p>“Yeah, I’ll call the Uber.”</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Yuuri can’t tell if he’s drunk or just hallucinating, but he swears that “No, there’s no way Victor Nikiforov is in the same dingy sports bar as him,” and “Yes, Phichit I am nearly blind and drunk as fuck but I can still <em> see </em>—“</p><p>Okay, that last bit was a lie. He can’t see. Not clearly, anyway. He’s wearing his contacts today and the prescription is a little outdated, but Phichit insisted. Also, he hasn’t been keeping track of how much he’s ordered, but when he looks down he sees a half-eaten fried onion blossom, the top bun of a cheeseburger (he ate the burger patty and the bottom bun; he always removes the top buns in an attempt to make himself feel better), a full basket of sweet potato fries, and two uneaten chicken wings. </p><p>It’s not all for him, he reasons, he and Phichit are <em> sharing</em>. He also can’t keep count of his margaritas because the waitress keeps taking his empty glasses and he keeps saying yes to another one. Phichit doesn’t stop him. In fact, Phichit never stops him. </p><p>So, when Yuuri is in the process of drinking, Phichit pulls out his phone and starts to record when Beautiful Victor Nikiforov comes up to their end of the table and takes a seat next to Yuuri. </p><p>“Hi!”</p><p>Yuuri spills a little liquid down his front and hastily grabs for a napkin but in doing so, he knocks over a set of utensils and nearly flips over the basket of fries. Phichit is stifling his laughter as Yuuri tries to compose himself and Victor looks on, amused. </p><p><em> Shit, </em> Yuuri thinks foggily. <em> I’m a mess fucking drunk. </em></p><p> </p><p>The next morning, Yuuri finds himself in bed at his hotel and the fried onion is the last thing he remembers. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>kudos, comments and any constructive criticism is appreciated! thank you :-)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. entree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for waiting!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>He calls up Phichit. </p><p>“Phichit, I don’t remember what happened after my burger,” he says in a half whisper. Phichit snickers. </p><p>“Well, I took a Lyft back home when we were done at the sports bar,” Phichit says and Yuuri is sighing in relief, “But you decided to stay out and keep drinking.”</p><p>Yuuri’s heart sinks. “I did?” He squeaks. </p><p>“Yeah, with Victor!”</p><p>“<em>With Victor?</em>” Yuuri nearly faints.</p><p>“Yeah, he said he’ll make sure you get home safe,” Phichit replies. “He even texted me when you reached your suite!”</p><p>“Victor did?” </p><p>“Yeah, what a <em> nice </em> guy,” Phichit answers. Yuuri can’t read what he meant by that tone. “Anyway, listen I have to go, Minako is calling me--Don’t forget we’re filming again today and we have your interview tomorrow with <em> Food &amp; Wine Magazine</em>--” </p><p>Yuuri hangs up before Phichit can finish. </p><p>He doesn’t register his hands trembling, but he takes a deep breath anyway and tries to pull himself together. <em> Fuck</em>. </p><p>He doesn’t remember anything. He doesn’t remember going to any other bars, he doesn’t remember the Lyft, he doesn’t remember <em> Victor </em>--</p><p>He pulls up his text messages and sees two unread from 3:00AM.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Victor  </em>
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  <em> good night Yuuuurii~~</em>
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  <em> tonight was fun~~ let’s do it again sometime soon 😄❤️ </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The text messages don’t register in his brain until he rereads it for the third time and notices all the heart emoji. </p><p><em> Oh no</em>. <em> I definitely did something weird</em>. Memories of Phichit showing him scandalous photos and videos of him blacked out drunk resurfaces in his mind. </p><p><em> Oh noooooooooo</em>.</p><p>
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</p><p>Phichit finds him with a pillow over his head, drags him out of bed and shouts at him to get ready to leave. Yuuri just lies there, dead weight on the floor and tells Phichit to find him a replacement because he absolutely cannot show his face in public, let alone around Victor. </p><p>“Just ship me back to LA,” he whines. </p><p>“<em>You’re so overdramatic,</em>” Phichit says in Thai. </p><p>Yuuri gets dressed eventually, not because he loves his job but because Phichit threatens to change his Netflix password. </p><p>
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</p><p>Yuuri’s just about to enter the set when he sees Victor Nikiforov talking to Bobby Flay and is instantly reminded that he left the man on read this morning. </p><p>“Oh, Yuuri!” Victor calls him over. “Good morning!”</p><p>Yuuri’s flight is activated and he’s blurting out, “Sorry, bathroom!” and turns around to speed walk in the opposite direction. </p><p>“But the bathroom is… that way?” He hears Bobby say, confused. </p><p>Yuuri walks faster. </p><p>
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</p><p>He’s in the make-up chair and literally unable to run away this time when Victor corners him. </p><p>“Hi Yuuri!” </p><p>Yuuri probably will never get tired of Victor’s Russian accent. He really hopes he’s not developing a <em> preference</em>. </p><p>He suppresses a shudder and smiles awkwardly, still feeling a little guilty about not texting back. </p><p>“Hi,” He says back. The make-up artist is holding his chin in place so he can’t move his head to look at him, but he puts a hand up to wave feebly. </p><p>“Are you feeling better?” </p><p>Yuuri’s eyes flicker to look at Victor briefly. Victor is beaming down at him. “Yes, thanks for seeing me back to my hotel,” Yuuri responds. The make-up artist clicks her tongue softly and he immediately looks forward. Victor looks at her, almost as if in annoyance. </p><p>She says something in Russian under her breath and Victor quickly says something back at her. Yuuri clears his throat. </p><p>“Ah, I’m glad you’re feeling better!” Victor’s demeanor does a 180 and his mouth forms a heart again. Yuuri loves seeing it every time. “I had a lot of fun! You’re here until Sunday, right?” </p><p>“Y-yeah, I think so--” </p><p>“We should go out again before then!” Victor already has his phone out, probably checking his calendar. The make-up artist dabs a bit of concealer under his eyes, forcing him to look up to the ceiling. </p><p>“Wait, about last night--I didn’t do anything weird, right--” Yuuri starts to say but he gets cut off. </p><p>“Ten minutes!” The crew calls out. They motion to Victor to take his seat at the judges’ table. </p><p>“Oh! I better go,” Victor says. “I’ll see you at the table, Yuuri!” He probably didn’t hear Yuuri, who deflates a little as he watches Victor walk away. The make-up artist must’ve heard him sigh because she puts down her blending sponge, grabs him by the shoulders and looks right into his eyes. </p><p>“Just go for it,” she says. Yuuri blinks at her. </p><p>“Wh-what?” </p><p>“Him. He wants you. Just go for it.” Yuuri sputters and bristles at her. She gives him a firm squeeze. </p><p>“You-you don’t know that,” He insists. </p><p>“All morning, he wouldn’t shut up,” She responds, “Look at him, he keeps looking over here.”</p><p>Yuuri makes the mistake of turning his head to look at the same time as her, because now it looks like they’re definitely talking about Victor. And lo and behold, he’s beaming at them. Victor waves happily at them. </p><p>“Pathetic,” she says with a huge, knowing grin on her face. </p><p>“Oh my god,” Yuuri puts a hand to cover his face and it gets swatted away.</p><p>“Hey! Don’t touch! I just finished!” </p><p>“Sorry!” He snaps his hand down. “Listen… Mila, right?” </p><p>Mila grins at him now and nods. </p><p>“There’s no way he’s interested,” Yuuri confirms. “We’re just mutual colleagues in the same industry.” </p><p>“‘Mutual,’” she echos. She shrugs. “If you say so.” </p><p>She helps him out of the chair and he thanks her before heading towards the table. He goes to take his seat in between Victor Nikiforov and Christophe Giacometti after greeting them both. Chris greets him back with a nice squeeze on his ass and Yuuri yelps out in surprise. </p><p>“Chris!” Yuuri exclaims and quickly sits down before Chris can squeeze him again.</p><p>“Yuuri! I heard you all went out last night,” Chris pouts. “I knew I should’ve flown in earlier.” </p><p>“Oh, yeah--it was Phichit’s idea.”</p><p>“You should’ve been there, it was definitely lively!” Victor chimes in. </p><p>“I know! He sent me a video!” Chris whines. Yuuri shouts and grabs Chris’ arm. </p><p>“Please delete it!! Don’t believe anything you saw!” He pleads. “Everything Phichit sends is all fake!” Chris laughs and flings his arm around Yuuri. </p><p>“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me,” Chris leans in and Yuuri groans. “Like that night in Portland! Oh <em> mon cheri</em>, that memory still sends shivers down my spine!” Chris smushes their cheeks together. </p><p>“That was a long time ago, really!” Yuuri cries. “That’s not me anymore!” He should’ve known to ask Phichit beforehand who he’ll be co-starring with, because now no amount of concealer can cover the redness in his face. </p><p>“I still have the video Phichit edited to look like a fancam,” Chris sighs dreamily. “You broke my heart that night, Yuuri.” </p><p>“Hmm? Portland?” Victor hums curiously and Yuuri almost forgot he was present. </p><p>“It’s nothing!” Yuuri hides his face in his palms and he could hear Mila in the distance tutting at him. </p><p>A stage hand signals for them to get ready. Chris is still chuckling as he releases Yuuri, who sighs in defeat. </p><p>“3… 2… 1!” </p><p>And the cameras start rolling. </p><p>Yuuri doesn’t dare to look into Victor’s eyes for the rest of filming. </p><p>
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</p><p>As soon as the day is over, Yuuri tries to sneak away before anyone could corner him again. </p><p>Keyword: <em> Try. </em></p><p>Victor ambushes him as soon as he exits the building doors. </p><p>“Yuuri!” He freezes on the spot and turns to face the always charismatic Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri must’ve done something seriously criminal in a past life to deserve such karma. </p><p>“Oh, hi,” Yuuri greets. Victor walks briskly to catch up to him. Once he’s closer, Yuuri notices Victor must’ve been waiting outside for some time, as his nose is red. If Yuuri was feeling guilty, he’s feeling much worse now. </p><p>“Good work today! I’m glad I caught you before you left,” Victor says happily, falling into place with Yuuri’s pace as they walk down the sidewalk. </p><p>Yuuri silently panics. “Oh-uh--” <em> What did he mean by wanting to catch me?</em> <em> Oh no, what if it’s about last night? Did I throw up on his clothes and he wants to make me pay for the dry cleaning?!  </em></p><p>Victor’s voice breaks him out of his hysteria. “I hope you don’t mind.” </p><p>“A-ah, no it’s, it’s okay,” Yuuri adjusts his scarf. “Did you need something?” Victor hums as he walks alongside him. A moment of silence passes between them. </p><p>“Are you free?” </p><p>“Huh?” </p><p>“Tomorrow? Are you free?” </p><p>Yuuri looks up. Victor’s not looking at him, but to his right, towards traffic. He notices him staring and when Victor turns to look at Yuuri to meet his gaze, he notices a light blush of red spread from his face to his ears. Victor looks away to face forward. </p><p><em> It must be really cold, </em> Yuuri thinks. </p><p>“I mean, if you’re-if you’re not free tomorrow...” Victor rubs the back of his neck. </p><p>Yuuri hums in thought, his hand going up to cup his chin while he tries to remember his schedule. Phichit mentioned his interview tomorrow, but that should be over by 1:30pm at the latest… </p><p>“I should be free after two,” Yuuri says finally. “Why?” </p><p>He doesn’t hear Victor exhale in relief. “Nothing.” Victor says. </p><p>By the time they reach the end of the block, Victor is absolutely glowing. He hails Yuuri a cab to take him back to his hotel. </p><p>“Free after two, hm.” Victor says quietly with an unknown smile as the cab pulls up to them. </p><p><em> Huh? </em> “Oh, uh--” Yuuri doesn’t know how to respond. Did Victor already forget what he said? Victor opens the car door for him and motions him to get inside. </p><p>Yuuri murmurs a “Thank you,” bows his head politely and steps in. When he reaches out to close the door after climbing in, Victor grabs his hand gently. </p><p>“I’ll pick you up at 5pm tomorrow,” Victor says with his beautiful heart-shaped mouth, “It’s a date!” </p><p>Yuuri’s mind short circuits and before he could even reply, Victor tells the driver the name of Yuuri’s hotel and gives his hand a light squeeze before gently closing the car door shut. Yuuri’s jaw is still slack, mouth paralyzed open in disbelief as Victor gives him a cheerful wave as the driver pulls off the curb and into the streets.</p><p>Yuuri feels his soul leave his body. The driver must’ve noticed his distress because he looks in the rearview mirror and asks if he’s okay. </p><p>Yuuri mumbles incoherently. </p><p>“I’m sorry?” </p><p><em> “A DATE</em>,” Yuuri says loudly. He’s now leaning forward and gripping the driver’s seat. The driver widens his eyes as if to say ‘Uh, okay…’ and Yuuri continues to freak out. </p><p>“VICTOR NIKIFOROV ASKED ME OUT ON A DATE!” It sounds even weirder saying it out loud. </p><p>The driver bristles, “Uh, congratulations?” He drives a little faster to their destination. Yuuri slinks back into his seat and buries his face in his hands.</p><p>Oh god. </p><p><em> Oh god</em>. </p><p><em> A date</em>. </p><p>He shoots a text to Phichit and by the time he arrives back to his hotel room, Phichit is already there and waiting for him. </p><p>Before Yuuri can even move or speak, Phichit grabs his shoulders and says, “I rescheduled your interview,” Yuuri sputters at this and Phichit continues, “Tomorrow, we’re going shopping!!” </p><p>
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</p><p>“I had perfectly good pants in my carry-on, you know,” Yuuri protests as Phichit leads him through a clothing store as promised. They had stayed up the night prior with Phichit forcing Yuuri to spill all the details, and also because Phichit was raiding through Yuuri’s packed clothes. </p><p>“Khakis? Seriously? You were going to wear <em> khakis </em> on a date with <em> the </em> Victor Nikiforov?” He spits out the word ‘khakis’ as if they burned his tongue. </p><p>“No, the cargo shorts… And there’s nothing wrong with khakis!” Yuuri says back. Okay, so he doesn’t know fashion. Phichit was his manager, publicist <em> and </em> stylist for a reason. The words ‘cargo shorts’ makes Phichit make a retching noise. </p><p>“I could have sworn I burned those,” Phichit mutters as he browses through shirts. “Like, who are you? Jake from State Farm?” Yuuri pretends not to hear. </p><p>“I didn’t even agree to going out yet,” Yuuri whines. </p><p>“You’ve been harboring a culinary boner for this guy since like what, since you’ve been fifteen? Jesus, Yuuri, your teenage self would be bouncing off the walls by now,” Phichit says matter-of-factly. </p><p>Yuuri still can’t shake the embarrassment of not being able to remember whatever he did when he was drunk. Nor can he logically reason why Victor Nikiforov of all people would want a second round with him. </p><p>“Whatever you did, Yuuri, it can’t be that bad,” Phichit reasons. “If he’s still wanting to talk to you, maybe that means he wants to bang?” </p><p>Yuuri punches him on the arm. “Ow, okay, fine, maybe he fell for the ol’ Katsuki charm--<em> Ow! </em> Maybe he just wants to steal the rest of your recipes, I don’t know-- <em> Ow, stop--hitting me--!” </em> Phichit swats him away and moves out of his reach. </p><p>“He obviously likes you,” Phichit tells him. Yuuri sighs. “And before you say ‘<em> There’s no way’ </em> like you always do--” Phichit imitates Yuuri in the worst possible way, “There’s literally no reason why he <em> wouldn’t</em>.” </p><p>“First of all, I don’t sound like that,” Yuuri starts. Phichit just rolls his eyes. “Second of all, I’m just Yuuri. He’s--”</p><p>“<em>The </em> Victor Nikiforov, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, so? You’re <em> The </em> Yuuri Katsuki. Your office wall is lined with awards. You’ve had as many achievements as he’s had. In fact, probably the <em> only </em> one that’s ever gone as far as him in terms of accomplishments.” </p><p>“But he’s… too gorgeous.” <em> For me, </em> Yuuri doesn’t say. </p><p>Phichit snorts. “If I had a dollar for every poor, unfortunate soul you’ve ruined, I’d have quit being your manager and retired by now.” </p><p>Yuuri scoffs. “Yeah, right.” </p><p>“Yuuri, remind me when we get back home to schedule you an eye-exam.” Yuuri rolls his eyes this time.</p><p>Phichit pulls several items from shelves as he browses, touching the fabrics and looking at Yuuri and then back at the clothes again. Once Phichit is satisfied with his selection, he moves Yuuri to the fitting rooms and demands a show. </p><p>They go through several outfits, some more miss than hit (according to Phichit, anyway--Yuuri thinks all the things he tried on looked nice). When Yuuri puts on a rather tight, slim fit pair of light colored faded jeans with a bright, cutely patterned and colorful button-up paired with a deep blue blazer, Phichit whoops and whistles at him, immediately unlocking his phone and starting to record. He wags a finger in a motion for Yuuri to spin around, and Yuuri complies as his face turns red. </p><p>“YES, Mr. Katsuki Yuuri! Go off!” He does another spin and laughs at the attention anyway and tells Phichit to shut up already. </p><p>“Dat ass, though!” Phichit almost yells, filming close-ups of his ass, moving his phone up and down his body as if it were a photoshoot. </p><p>“Okay, that’s enough,” Yuuri tells him. He secretly checks himself out in the mirror. <em> Well, okay. He’ll give him credit--Phichit’s not lying.  </em></p><p>“Tan France <em> who? </em>More like Chulanont, baby!” </p><p>“<em>Stop </em>,” Yuuri hisses. The store attendant is grinning politely at them behind her counter, hand covering her mouth. </p><p><em> “Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov!!!” </em> </p><p>Yuuri groans. </p><p>This is why he can’t take Phichit anywhere. </p><p>
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</p><p>They make it back to Yuuri’s room with heavy shopping bags in each hand. “Why is it every time we go to New York, I spend a fortune,” Phichit whines. He flops onto the bed, phone in hand, probably tweeting about his haul. “Whatever. Worth it!”</p><p>Yuuri has almost 2 hours to get ready before Victor is supposed to pick him up. He still has no idea where they are going. </p><p>“You’ll be fine,” Phichit says, not looking up. “Just keep your location services on and I’ll check up on you periodically. Can’t let my source of income and best friend get eaten, you know?” </p><p>Yuuri throws a pillow at his head and Phichit cackles as Yuuri goes to shower. When he steps out, he finds the clothes they bought laid out on the bed. He gets dressed as Phichit looks through his shopping bags. </p><p>“Here, wear these too.” Phichit tosses him miscellaneous accessories and holds up two pairs of Yuuri’s shoes. “Wear the brown ones,” he instructs, putting the other pair away. </p><p>Once he’s done, Phichit takes one long look at him up and down, “Victor is <em> so </em> lucky.” He dodges the pillow thrown at him this time as he’s cackling and gets up to help Yuuri with the finishing touches. </p><p>“I’m going to fire you when I get back tonight.” </p><p>“<em>If </em> you get back tonight,” Phichit smirks. Yuuri lands a quick jab right into Phichit’s gut. Phichit oofs and puts his hands up in defeat. </p><p>Phichit finishes fixing Yuuri’s hair and whips out his phone. “Take a selfie with me before you head out!” </p><p>They get in close together, strike a few poses, and then Phichit moves him to take full-body mirror selfies. He sings happily when they finish.</p><p> “You better not post those with some kind of weird caption,” Yuuri warns. </p><p>“Weird? What are you talking about?” Phichit says innocently. “Have fun! I put something extra in your pockets, so check them later… Bye!” Phichit takes his leave before Yuuri can say another word. He pats his pants down and feels something in his right front pocket. He doesn’t have to reach in to know what it is. He yells in annoyance, pulls the roll of condoms out and throws them onto his nightstand. </p><p><em> Like hell I’ll be needing </em>those! He shudders at the thought of… at the thought of… </p><p>
  <em> Y-yeah right! It’s a date but it’s not like… a date date…  </em>
</p><p>He looks at himself in the mirror one last time, considers cancelling for a split second, paces around before finally checking his bag for his wallet and phone, and leaves his hotel room. </p><p>
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</p><p>Yuuri makes his way down to the lobby to wait for Victor, not sure if Victor knew what his hotel room number was (Yuuri doesn’t want to think about if Victor <em> did</em>) so he decides to play it safe. </p><p>He’s checking his notifications and emails when he hears another person approaching. He looks up to see who it is. </p><p>It’s almost surreal seeing Victor again, wearing crisp tan pants, cotton maroon button-up and a darker brown suit jacket over it. The pants cuffs are rolled up just below his ankle. Victor’s hair looks a little mussed by the breeze from outside and Yuuri just wants to run his fingers through it and hold it as he pulls Victor’s face towards him to--</p><p>“Yuuri!” Victor breathes out. He’s waving and Yuuri gets up to greet him.</p><p>“H-hi, Victor,” He manages to say. He doesn’t know if he should shake hands or not, but before he could even lift an arm Victor is pulling Yuuri into his. </p><p>Yuuri’s mind quiets and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. </p><p>“You look wonderful today,” Victor says into Yuuri’s ear and he feels goosebumps forming all of his body. Victor lets go and Yuuri begs himself not to fling himself back onto Victor’s body. </p><p>“These are for you,” Victor holds out a small bouquet of flowers towards him. Yuuri’s face lights up and his heart melts as he takes the bouquet from him. </p><p>“Thank you,” he brings them up to his face to take a light whiff of the fragrance. “They’re beautiful. I’ll ask if the concierge can take these up to my room for me.” Victor walks with Yuuri up to the front desk as he speaks to the receptionist there. </p><p>Once he’s done, Victor motions to the doors. “Shall we?” </p><p>Yuuri smiles back, nervous but excited. He can already feel his hands and armpits sweating. He takes a deep breath. </p><p>“Sure.” </p><p>
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</p><p>“What do you think? Black or red?” </p><p>“Hmmm,” Yuuri thinks. “I would’ve thought Martha Stewart sends Victor Nikiforov, of all people, PR of her newest line of cookware when it releases.” </p><p>Victor pouts. It’s freaking cute. Yuuri wants to press his finger into the wrinkle that forms in between Victor’s brows. </p><p>They’re out in one of the shopping districts, presumably wasting time before their dinner reservation. Victor is taking him out on a mini sightseeing trip after learning Yuuri’s never really explored the city before. The car ride over was filled with Victor pointing out various places (<em>“Next time we’ll have to visit the park,” Victor tells him and Yuuri’s heart swells with excitement at the prospect of another date</em>).</p><p>“I was in the middle of moving when she sent these,” Victor says in an adorable whiny voice as he puts the crock pot back on the shelf. “They belong to my previous landlord now.” Yuuri can almost see an imaginary tear roll down Victor’s face. </p><p>“What a lucky landlord,” Yuuri comments, laughing. </p><p>Victor hums happily as they walk together to various aisles, commenting and scrutinizing gimmicky ‘As Seen on TV’-like products. </p><p>“Wow, this one peels <em> and </em> slices eggs for you,” Victor notices something on the shelf. “Finally, a device that saves my hands from smelling like eggs.” </p><p>“What if I told you I like the smell of eggs?” Yuuri jokes, arching his brow. Victor looks back at him, playfully scandalized. </p><p>“Definitely not buying this one then.” They continue to browse down the aisle and their fingers brush for a moment. The touch sends a jolt up Yuuri’s arm. Yuuri immediately pulls his hand back, flustered at the skin contact. </p><p><em> Oh god, what is he? A school girl? </em>Victor doesn’t seem to notice and continues to walk through the aisle, picking up random kitchen tools as if browsing. “Yuuri! Look! It’s a slap-chopper!” Yuuri forgets about it and grins back at Victor. </p><p>“I’ve always wanted to try one of these.” Victor puts it back after examining the box. Yuuri snickers. </p><p>“I can’t imagine you slap-chopping anything.” </p><p>“Maybe I’ll buy it after all!” Victor goes to pick it up again. </p><p>“Please don’t...”</p><p>
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</p><p>“I’m glad you came out tonight,” Victor says to him. They’re seated at what Yuuri recognizes to be a popular restaurant in the city, having earned a Michelin star. Victor must’ve called in a favor, because it usually takes months to a year to make a reservation here. </p><p>“Oh, well,” Yuuri fidgets with the edge of the table cloth, “Thank you for inviting me out.” </p><p>“Of course! I’ve looked forward to getting the chance to see you again,” Victor beams. Yuuri blushes and takes a drink of water. He looks at Victor over the rim of his glass, who in return catches his gaze. There’s a reddish tint on the tips of Victor’s ears. </p><p><em> Hmmm… maybe Phichit is right. </em>He decides to push a little. </p><p>“I’m a little disappointed though,” Yuuri places his glass down. He notices Victor pauses slightly but it passes as soon as it comes. </p><p>“Oh? Why is that?” Victor is smiling but there’s no warmth. He picks up his wine glass to his mouth, about to drink.</p><p>“I was hoping you’d take me out to one of your restaurants.” Yuuri looks around them and waits until Victor takes a sip. He then looks Victor square in the eye, cocking his head to one side and gives him a pitiful look. “Am I not good enough for your food?” </p><p>Victor nearly spits out his drink and fumbles for his napkin to wipe the dribble from his mouth. “It’s not that--You’re more than--We’re just under renovation right now--”</p><p>Yuuri bursts out laughing. Victor stares, more amused now than he was flustered. “I’m <em> kidding.</em>” </p><p>“Oh <em> Yuuri</em>,” Victor says, breathless and watching Yuuri laugh at him. He seems relieved. Victor runs a hand through his hair, as if stressed. “You absolutely <em> amaze</em> me.” </p><p>Yuuri turns red at that and immediately looks away. “You don’t mean that.” </p><p>“I mean every word,” Victor replies back firmly. “And we'll visit Stammi Vincino once everything is in perfect shape. You deserve nothing less, after all.” </p><p>Yuuri reddens. He opts to avoid saying anything more by drinking more water. He’s saved by the waitress coming by to check on them and also to take their menu. As soon as the waitress leaves, Victor’s attention is back on Yuuri. </p><p>“What do you think about this place?” </p><p>Yuuri looks around again, more closely this time. He speaks carefully, like he was being quizzed. “It’s nice… very trendy. Cozy,” Yuuri says, motioning to describe how the tables were close together. “I would’ve spread the tables out a little more, maybe not use the white tablecloth. Just leave the wooden table-top.” </p><p>“Right? I think a natural wood table-top would fit the image more,” Victor agrees enthusiastically. “I love the decor, though.” </p><p>“Their outside patio is lovely, you know with all those plants,” Yuuri remembers seeing it on their way in. “But the lighting doesn’t serve any of the decor here justice. We should come back for brunch. It probably looks even better with the sun out.” </p><p>Victor’s eyes light up. Yuuri realizes what he just said. “Oh--um. I mean,” Yuuri meets Victor’s gaze. “If you want to.” </p><p>“I’d love to, Yuuri.” </p><p>He feels the heat rise from his chest, up to his neck and then up to his ears. He’s saved once again when the waiters bring out their first course. </p><p>“Wow!” Victor exclaims once the plates are laid out in front of them. They thank the waiters as they leave and Victor pulls out his phone to snap a photo. He takes one from overhead and then another at an angle. </p><p>“Have you been here before, Victor?” Yuuri asks, picking up a fork and placing his cloth napkin over his lap. Victor shakes his head no and places his phone onto the table. </p><p>“Haven’t gotten a chance to, actually. I thought this would’ve been the perfect opportunity,” Victor says. “I’m eager to know what you think of the menu.” </p><p>Yuuri chuckles, “Definitely a step up from McDonalds.” </p><p>Victor seems to be offended. “Nothing wrong with some fast food occasionally! I think of it as cleansing your palate,” Victor says with a flourish. Victor was kind of right; after that incident it felt as though anything Yuuri created in the kitchen tasted suspiciously like heaven. </p><p>Victor must’ve sensed Yuuri’s thoughts because he says, “I’m right, aren’t I?” </p><p>Yuuri could only roll his eyes instead of answering honestly. He digs into the panzanella salad--it was refreshing, good to start off the meal with but nothing eye-opening. He tells Victor so and he hums in response. </p><p>“What would you do differently?” Yuuri asks. </p><p>“Maybe grill the vegetables,” Victor says. </p><p>“Smart,” Yuuri takes another bite. </p><p>Victor smirks. “I sure hope I am, at least in front of you, Chef Yuuri.” </p><p>Yuuri perks his eyebrow, not used to being called that so casually. “Better keep up the good work then, <em> Chef Nikiforov</em>.” He watches Victor blink at him for a few seconds, come to his senses and then laughs, not bothering to hide the pink rising up to his ears. </p><p>Seeing Victor become the slightest bit flustered makes Yuuri laugh too, and he finally notices he’s actually <em> enjoying </em> himself. </p><p><em> I don’t want tonight to end</em>, he thinks in the back of his mind. </p><p>
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</p><p>Victor takes him back to his hotel after dinner and a walk around the block. When their car arrives outside, Victor gets out before Yuuri does so he can open the door for him. Yuuri turns to Victor to thank him before he heads inside the lobby. </p><p>“Thanks for tonight,” Yuuri says softly, awkwardly adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. Victor chuckles softly back.</p><p>“I should be thanking you instead,” Victor says back and he takes both of Yuuri’s hands into his. Yuuri feels the heat from Victor’s hand rush straight to his chest. </p><p>Victor brings his hands up to his lips. “See you again?” Victor locks eye contact with Yuuri, whose eyes are wide as he nods wordlessly. Victor gives him a warm smile and lightly taps his lips against Yuuri’s knuckles in a soft kiss. </p><p>“Good night, Yuuri.” Victor says. He gently lets go and Yuuri is left, standing stupidly at the curb with one hand up, fingers curled in a stunned goodbye, watching as Victor gets into the car and drives away. </p><p>As soon as Victor’s out of sight, Yuuri rushes up to his hotel room, hurls himself into bed and screams happily into a pillow. </p><p>And then promptly afterwards, he goes to take a long, hot shower.</p><p>
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</p><p>Victor starts to text him almost daily. At first Yuuri replies carefully, paranoid he’ll say something out of line. Eventually Yuuri eases into normal conversation and they talk about everything--from Victor’s dog to whatever show Yuuri’s been watching. </p><p>They start exchanging ‘good nights’ and ‘good mornings’ every day. Victor makes it easy because he never pushes Yuuri too far. </p><p>But one time, Victor video calls him out of the blue and Yuuri immediately declines as soon as he sees Victor’s name scrolling across the screen and his bed hair in the front camera. He opts for a voice-only call and feebly apologizes. “I’m kinda ugly right now,” he says, and Victor instantly corrects him, “You? Never. You’re perfect, Yuuri.” </p><p>It makes Yuuri’s heart skip a beat, for sure. </p><p>They eventually get around to video chatting, only because Yuuri drinks enough wine to muster up the courage to video call Victor first. Soon after it becomes almost weekly and then a <em> daily </em> thing and Yuuri’s in absolute <em> bliss</em>. </p><p>
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</p><p>But still, there’s a voice in his head that nags at him. </p><p>
  <em> You’re just wasting his time. Feels sorry for you. You’re not special.  </em>
</p><p>Over time, Yuuri stops answering Victor’s calls, coming up with an excuse every time. He texts back a feeble <em> Sorry, I’m busy</em>. </p><p>Their nightly calls come to a gradual stop altogether and their daily texts turn into weekly, then monthly. If it wasn’t for Victor regularly sending him photos of Makkachin, their texts would be practically non-existent. </p><p>
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</p><p>Yuuri blames it on the 3-hour time difference. </p><p>
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</p><p>He’s watching TV when one of the shows Victor is working on airs. It’s one of those mini documentary series where the cameras follow Victor around as he visits and reviews up-and-coming restaurants. Sure, it’s a recurring theme that’s been way overdone by countless food celebrities, but it’s refreshing watching Victor do it. Victor’s airy laugh fills his room and Yuuri’s heart pangs with guilt and he <em> kind of </em>misses him. </p><p>Okay, <em> fine</em>. He misses him a lot. </p><p>But he still can’t shake the thoughts in his head.</p><p>He doesn’t understand Victor. He doesn’t get why he wants to keep talking to him. He’s nothing special compared to Victor or all the other professionals in the field. A dime-a-dozen chef. There’s no way Victor was even the slightest bit in love with him. Why would he, anyway? He’s just Yuuri. </p><p>
  <em> Bland, stale and boring Yuuri.  </em>
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</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>“Stop ghosting him,” Phichit says as he’s rummaging through Yuuri’s cupboards and refrigerator. He frowns in disappointment when he doesn’t find anything in the fridge, but whoops in victory when he finds Yuuri’s poorly hidden bag of Hot Cheetos in the cabinets. He rips them open before Yuuri can protest. </p><p>“I’ll buy you another one,” Phichit tells him. Yuuri tries not to look too annoyed. He was really looking forward to eating the entire bag for dinner. </p><p>But no one needs to know that. </p><p>“Ghosting who?” Yuuri momentarily stops typing. It’s been almost more than two months now since he and Victor kind of drifted apart. </p><p>Now he’s working on a second cookbook, per Phichit’s and Minako’s recommendation. He peers up at Phichit over his laptop screen. Phichit grabs his tub of cream cheese out of the fridge and pries the lid off. </p><p>“I’ll buy you another one of these too,” Phichit says. </p><p>“Ghosting <em> who?</em>” Yuuri asks again. Phichit dips a Cheeto into the cream cheese and eats it. </p><p>“Victor.” </p><p>Oh.</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>Yuuri huffs. “No one is ghosting <em> Victor </em>.” </p><p>“Then why is <em> he </em> asking <em> me </em> when <em> you’re </em> free?” Phichit’s red-dusted fingers point to the side, to himself and then at Yuuri as he talks. </p><p>“Because you’re my manager?” Yuuri rolls his eyes and goes back to look at his laptop while Phichit scoffs at him. He remembers Victor mentioning a while ago about buying an apartment in LA and wanting to get to know the area better. Yuuri almost offered to take him around but immediately dismissed the thought. </p><p>“And I’m busy.” </p><p>“You’re not <em> that </em>busy,” Phichit counters. “I mean, I’m your manager, so I know what it is that you’re working on or if we have a schedule--” </p><p>“Minako wants the rough outline of this book by the end of this week,” Yuuri says. </p><p>Phichit sucks in his teeth, “Tch! The other night you spent almost 6 hours marathoning <em> The Office</em>.” </p><p>Yuuri huffs, “I was taking a break!” </p><p>Phichit continues, “You went out last weekend for dinner with me and Chris, and when I posted it on my Instagram, Victor DM-ed me and--”</p><p>“You’re mutuals with Victor Nikiforov?!” </p><p>“Yeah, so? You are too...?” Phichit looks puzzled, “I could’ve sworn he followed you back.” He pulls up Victor’s profile on his phone with his non-Cheeto fingers and shows it to Yuuri. Yuuri’s username is there, under the list of accounts Victor’s following.</p><p>Yuuri can’t believe his eyes, so he picks up his phone from where it lay next to his laptop, opens up his social media and breathes out a “Oh shit,” because he’s actual mutuals with THE<em> VICTOR NIKIFOROV-- </em></p><p>“When the fuck did this happen?!” </p><p>“Wait, you don’t remember? It was during our sports bar outing...” Phichit’s face lights up when he realizes, “Oh my god, that’s <em> right</em>, you <em> don’t </em> remember--” and ugly laughs. Yuuri’s face is as red as the Hot Cheetos, he can feel it. </p><p>“He’s never mentioned being mutual followers on Instagram,” Yuuri mumbles. </p><p>“Victor probably didn’t think it was a big deal,” Phichit crunches a chip.</p><p>“Phichit, why are you like this,” Yuuri whines, scrolling through his page and sees that there’s been a ‘<em>v-nikiforov </em> ’ account liking and commenting on all fifteen of his posts. “I thought this was just a <em> fan </em> account, not the <em> actual </em> Victor!” </p><p>“Do you not know what that little blue checkmark means next to the username?” </p><p>“I thought it was just an emoji people liked to use!” </p><p>“Yuuri, you walnut, it means they’re a verified account. <em> You have one too!</em>” </p><p>“How am I supposed to know that? I don’t go on social media!” </p><p>“How is that my fault?” Phichit stabs a Cheeto into the cream cheese and points it at him angrily. “You’re lucky we were even able to get you verified!” </p><p>Yuuri whines. “This is why I should never be around alcohol...” </p><p>“But you’re so much more fun drunk,” Phichit says nastily with a grin. “And I mean, if you were going to be in danger, I would’ve stopped you.” </p><p>“I <em> was </em> in danger,” Yuuri nearly wails, “A danger to myself.” He wants to cry. Phichit rolls his eyes. Phichit knows the difference between Yuuri actually wanting to cry versus when Yuuri’s just throwing a tantrum.</p><p>“Well, you’re going to have to pull yourself together soon,” Phichit says. “We’re flying to New York in a few hours. Mari will be here soon to pick us up.” </p><p>Yuuri pales. “What?” </p><p>“We’re filming another <em> Chopped </em> episode.” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“Except you’re a guest judge this time,” Phichit eats another Cheeto, “And Victor’s competing!” </p><p>“<em>WHAT? </em>” </p><p>“I forget what the subdivisions are--”</p><p>“I can’t possibly--”</p><p>“I think this one is <em> Chopped: Beat the Judge? </em>”</p><p>“I <em> won’t </em>go--” </p><p>“Or something like that?”</p><p>“You can’t <em> make me </em>--”</p><p>“There’s too many spin-offs,” Phichit says indifferently, completely ignoring Yuuri’s meltdown.</p><p>Phichit makes himself a glass of ice and water. “Phew, them thangs really creep up on you,” he says, gulping down some water and then shaking the bag of Hot Cheetos to move the bigger chips to the top. “Ugh! Why are these <em> so </em> addicting!” </p><p>Yuuri opens a new tab and enters ‘<em>How to find a new best friend</em>’ into the search bar. <br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He wakes up on an airplane a few hours later, like Phichit promised. He vaguely remembers Phichit packing his suitcase and his sister dropping them off at the airport. </p><p>“We’ll check into the hotel first and then grab dinner somewhere,” Phichit says as the plane begins taxiing. He’s scrolling through his phone, probably double checking their schedule or for any messages. “You want anything specific?”</p><p>Yuuri yawns out a “no” and tries to stretch in their small space. “Okay,” Phichit says back. He taps something into his phone and quickly puts it away. </p><p>In hindsight, Yuuri should’ve known. </p><p>
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</p><p><em> “Yuuri!” </em> </p><p>Yuuri nearly gets whiplash when he sees Victor Nikiforov running over to greet him where he was sitting in the hotel lobby. </p><p>“Victor?” </p><p>“It’s been a while! Welcome back to New York!” Victor flourishes with his arms spread wide, looking even more handsome than what Yuuri remembers, and he holds Yuuri’s hands to pull him up to his feet. “Our car is waiting, let’s go.”</p><p>“Wait, Phichit isn’t down yet,” Yuuri says and Victor stops. </p><p>“Hmm? He told me he was meeting up a friend and to meet you in the lobby at 7.”</p><p>
  <em> Yuuri should’ve known.  </em>
</p><p>Victor must’ve put two and two together when he sees the look on Yuuri’s face because he lets go of Yuuri’s hands. </p><p>“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”</p><p>Victor’s sad, disappointed tone makes Yuuri want to kick himself. He immediately grabs Victor’s hand. “No! It’s okay. We can go.”</p><p>The way Victor’s face lights up makes Yuuri want to never let go. </p><p>He tugs Victor towards the exit. “The car is waiting,” Yuuri encourages. Victor laughs and leads them out. </p><p>
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</p><p>“Still not taking me to your restaurant, I see,” Yuuri says, amused. “But I suppose this is still a step up from McDonald’s.” He admires the industrial interior design of Victor’s kitchen. Everything is either wood or brick with dark cabinets and all-black appliances. He sees a gorgeous rose-gold stainless steel frying pan hanging in the corner and considers stealing it as a souvenir. </p><p>“Are you going to bring that up <em> every time </em> we eat?” Victor says jokingly, sounding offended. His sleeves are rolled up to 3/4ths and Yuuri wants to bite into his toned arms. There’s something about the display of Victor with his sleeves rolled up, sharpening a knife that just makes Yuuri want to go absolutely feral—</p><p>“No, but <em> that </em> was a real surprise,” Yuuri admits. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter from the opposite side and watches Victor move around, grabbing a pan from underneath the counter and a few ingredients from his pantry. He sets everything down in front of Yuuri and beams at him, his smile forming a heart. </p><p>“Help me cook?” </p><p>The idea of cooking <em> with </em> Victor Nikiforov shorts a circuit in his brain. Yuuri sputters, “I-I can’t cook—"</p><p>Victor frowns and lets out a deep sigh as he straightens up and moves over to stand directly in front of Yuuri. He puts his fingers to his forehead, rubbing muscles there, looking absolutely irritated. </p><p>“I thought I said I don’t like being lied to, Yuuri?” Victor says quietly. He isn’t smiling like he usually does and it’s low-key <em> scary, </em> but <em> Okay, it is kinda hot when he's mad</em>, he thinks anyway.</p><p>Oh boy. Yuuri’s got it bad. He meets Victor’s gaze and gulps. Victor’s blue eyes pierces into his brown ones.</p><p><em> Oh god. He’s going to murder me right here</em>. </p><p>“You’ve been featured in so many culinary magazines, you’ve got multiple well-respected critics all praising your restaurants and achievements. You’ve competed against many other renowned chefs and won, your two restaurants both have Michelin stars,” Victor is ranting now.</p><p>“You’re so talented, charming, intelligent, absolutely beautiful and…” Yuuri hangs onto every word. </p><p>A moment passes and finally Victor sighs. “I like you, Yuuri.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Yuuri’s eyes widen and his breath catches in his throat. It feels like the world stops moving, but still Victor keeps going. </p><p>“Ever since I first met you at the filming studio, from the moment that first 20-minute timer started, you’ve done nothing but surprise me... No one has ever been able to hold my attention for as long as you’ve had.” Victor looks into his eyes and Yuuri doesn’t dare look away.</p><p>“The food you make is incredible and no matter how I try to recreate it, there’s always something missing,” Victor speaks quietly and Yuuri’s heart clenches. </p><p>“I created an entire menu dedicated to flavors that remind me of you just <em> hoping </em> that you’d notice,” Yuuri’s heart beats faster at hearing this. Victor continues, “So when you responded with those three courses in that <em> Chopped </em> episode--” his breath hitches, “I just couldn’t shake the feeling that you might feel the same way.” </p><p>Yuuri opens his mouth to respond, but his brain is still processing.</p><p>“I was <em> hoping </em> you feel the same way, but when you didn’t text back... I don’t know, maybe it was something I said that hurt you, or maybe it really was just our schedules not lining up,” Victor’s shoulders drop a little and he looks away briefly. Yuuri’s guilt pierces through him as Victor continues, “But I couldn’t give up on you, didn’t want to give up on you because you’re just so, so brilliant and I’ve never felt like this before.” Victor’s gaze locks with his again. </p><p>Victor moves closer to Yuuri until he’s in front, almost sandwiching him between Victor and the kitchen island. Victor leans forward to gently pick up Yuuri’s hand and brushes his knuckles softly against his lips. Yuuri shivers, goosebumps forming all over his body.</p><p>“If this is all too much, please… just let me know.” Yuuri shakes his head, still unable to bring himself to say anything. He realizes Victor was holding his breath when he exhales softly. </p><p>“I really, really like you, Yuuri.” </p><p>The words knock the winds out of Yuuri and send him into a state of confusion, shock, <em> excitement </em> ... Yuuri’s ears ring with the sounds of his heart rapidly beating against his chest and he’s sweating, heat creeping up his neck and he looks away in utter disbelief and <em> Victor? Likes </em> him? <em> How? Why?  </em></p><p>Victor waits patiently, looking at him,<em> watching </em> him, blue eyes steeled to catch every second of Yuuri’s reaction, his hand still holding Yuuri’s. Yuuri doesn’t move away. He doesn’t move at all, because he knows if he tries to move, he’ll crumble to the ground. </p><p>Yuuri opens then closes his mouth. Opens, then closes again. Then, finally.</p><p>“You… like <em> like </em> me?” </p><p>It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth. Yuuri groans inwardly. </p><p>Victor blinks at first, but then hums that beautiful hum. He sounds almost relieved. </p><p>“Actually, I think I might’ve been in love with you ever since you made ice cream out of ghost chili peppers,” Victor confesses, still holding Yuuri’s hand. “I mean, no one in their right mind would’ve risked making ice cream considering the track record, especially if you’re going against <em> me</em>.” Victor chuckles. “Everyone knows that that ice cream machine is the devil incarnate.” </p><p>Yuuri gapes and can’t believe his ears. Victor continues. </p><p>“But you finessed that machine--” </p><p><em> Oh my god</em>.</p><p>Yuuri’s face breaks into a wide grin and he grabs Victor’s face and cuts him off with a kiss. </p><p>Victor responds with a fluttery, disbelieving laugh against his lips and pulls Yuuri closer by the waist until he’s squeezing him into a hug. He presses kisses into Yuuri's lips, then to his cheeks, his nose, then back to his mouth again as though <em>starved</em>. Yuuri laughs and melts and sighs and wants to cry, so he does and reassures Victor they’re tears of happiness. </p><p>Happiness, because after all this time, it all just feels <em> right</em>. </p><p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. aftertaste</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the real ending!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p>They cool down after what seems like an eternity and Yuuri finds himself in an apron, sleeves rolled up and knife in hand. He’s julienning carrots and quartering potatoes, following Victor’s instructions as he watches him carefully, as though studying his movements. </p><p>So far, he’s been meeting all of Victor’s expectations. </p><p>“I really, <em> really </em> don’t like it when I hear you talking down about yourself. It kind of breaks my heart a little,” Victor says as Yuuri’s preparing himself to cut into an onion.</p><p>“Oh, yeah, that,” Yuuri trails. “I’ve been trying to ease myself out of doing that.” </p><p>Victor hums. “But I’ll do a better job! I promise.” He bites his lip. “ It’s just hard sometimes, you know?” </p><p>“I’ll just have to keep reminding you of how amazing you are then!” Victor hums again in understanding. He plants a kiss on Yuuri’s temple.</p><p>“Reminder number one: Your hands are as beautiful as your knife skills,” Victor murmurs. Yuuri blushes. </p><p>“You’re so cheesy.” He says exasperatedly. He smiles anyway and nudges Victor away with his elbow. Victor chuckles and leaves Yuuri to continue his prep work. </p><p>Yuuri slices into the onion and he can feel his eyes sting. Ten plus years of culinary experience and he still can’t stop himself from crying over raw onions.</p><p><em> So many layers, </em> he weeps. </p><p>“You are very different when you drink,” Victor chooses to mention. He seasons the pork and then checks the taste of his broth. </p><p><em> Oh god. </em>Yuuri’s onions slip out of his hand and it scatters all over the top of the counter. A potato almost rolls over, but he fumbles to catch it in time.</p><p>“Wh-what do you mean?” </p><p>“I had a feeling maybe you didn’t remember,” Victor reaches over to the shelf full of spice jars and pulls out what looks like turmeric. He taps some over the pot and gives it a stir. “I learned a lot about you that night.” </p><p>“Oh god,” Yuuri wants to cover his face with his hands but it’s unhygienic when you’re in the middle of cooking. He opts to pull his apron up to cover the redness spreading over his cheeks. A million different scenarios run through his mind until Victor starts talking again. </p><p>“I mean, I guess I sort of already knew. Phichit posted a photo of you dancing before and deleted it immediately after, but I never thought I’d get to see it in person,” Victor says happily. “You’re so flexible, Yuuri!” </p><p>“Oh no,” Yuuri pales. He knows what photo Victor’s talking about because he threw an absolute <em> fit </em> and threatened Phichit that if he didn’t take the photo down from his Instagram, he would rip his Best Friend Forever Card into pieces. </p><p>“Afterwards I learned you and Chris have the same teacher downtown LA!” </p><p>“<em>Oh no </em>--”</p><p>“But I didn’t think the bar you chose would have one set up!” </p><p>“<em>Please</em>, don’t mention that night anymore--"Yuuri starts to say. He tries to focus on his task at hand. </p><p>“Take me to one of your pole-dancing classes, Yuuri!” Victor’s mouth forms a heart. “I want to see it again!”</p><p>Yuuri swings his knife loudly onto the cutting board, evenly chopping a carrot in half. Victor’s smile fades a little.</p><p>“Okay, maybe not.” </p><p><br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>aaaand that's it for this, folks! hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing! I plan on maybe writing Victor's POV... encouragement is appreciated. :-) </p><p>thank you for reading!</p>
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